


Hawaiian Blues

by carolroi (CarolROI)



Series: The Immortal Series [5]
Category: Highlander: The Series, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:39:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9592160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarolROI/pseuds/carolroi
Summary: An extended epilogue to Immortal Endgame, or what did happen on that trip to Hawaii?





	1. Breaking All The Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Suisan, this is a WIP that deals with the fallout from the events of the previous story in this series, Immortal Endgame. There's two chapters written. I'm working on coming up with a third to end it and head into the next part of the series. Suggestions welcome!

Sitting in the shade of a tall palm tree, Blair burrowed his bare toes deeper in the still warm sand. Resting his arms on his knees, he gazed out across the deserted expanse of golden beach to the azure sea. The light from the setting sun fell across his face, and he closed his eyes, cursing the prickle of tears he felt against his eyelids. 

Opening his eyes again, he looked around the beach, breathing in the sharp salt tang in the air. All this beauty, this peace, and all he could feel was pain and turmoil. "You had a good idea, Dee. But, god, I wish you were here with me instead of Jim," he said softly. His fingers closed around the neck of the beer bottle sitting next to him and, raising it to his lips, he took a large swallow. The liquid was warm from the sand but he didn't care. It took the edge off the ache in his heart.

Setting the bottle down again, Blair's fingers encountered a small rock. Picking it up, he turned it over and over for a few moments, then threw it toward the ocean. "I said I was sorry. Damn it, Jim, what in the hell do you want from me!"

* * *

Slowly paddling out beyond the breakers, Jim tried to let the rolling surf ease his troubled thoughts. For the past hour, ever since he rented the surfboard from Kauai Rentals, he'd been punishing his body by trying to recall just how to use a long board in turbulent waters. Four 'splashings' later, he was sure he had the hang of it again and decided to just relax. Lying on the board, belly down, and peering though the nearly crystal clear waters of Poipu Bay, he was trying not to think of the past ten days. 

Looking up, towards the white sand beach, the flash of long, deep red hair sent his mind reeling back in time. "Lee…" Trying to rid himself of the image of the dead Immortal, Jim shook his head so violently he flipped himself into the ocean. The water was warm, but the unexpected dunking cleared his thoughts for a few minutes as he dragged himself back onto the board. 

Straddling the monstrous board, he gazed back towards the beach, looking for the flash of red that had sent him into the water. Nothing. The only people on the isolated beach were either native Kauai'ians, a few sun bleached surfers, and one dark-haired guide, sitting under a lone palm, looking more miserable than Jim had ever seen him. 

He was tempted to listen for his friend's voice, to tune in to the one person on the beach he knew, but decided he wasn't ready for that. "Not yet. I'm not sure when, but not now." Carefully lying back on the board, Jim stared up into the darkening sky, then closed his eyes against the beauty of the setting sun. 

The cabin Dee had rented, meant as a lover's retreat for her and Blair, was set just off the remote beach. Jim knew the Immortal Champion had meant well by offering it to him and Blair, but being here, in this romantic setting, just stirred up all his feelings about Lee Eolia el Sadih. 

One week. He'd only known her for one week. A mere blink in time compared to her long life, but those seven days had left Jim wanting. Yes, Lee had lied to him, hurt Blair, and 'killed' Diandra -- but he was sure she had her reasons. He'd just never get the chance to know what they were. 

Sighing, Jim sat back up on the board, his gaze automatically going back to where his friend sat, only to find he wasn't there anymore. The sand where Blair had been sitting was disturbed; something was wrong. Checking his waterproof watch, Jim realized that he'd been out there, just lying on the board, letting the rolling swells lull him, for almost an hour. It was time he should have spent talking with his friend instead of avoiding him. 

Long, broad strokes pulled the board closer to the breakwater. Soon Jim was navigating the rough surf like the Pro-Am Surfer he'd been in his younger days, toes curling over the edge of the board, back and legs bent slightly to flow with the water, tucking under and through the curl of the wave. He used to live for this kind of surf, used to celebrate inside when he conquered a wave. This time he was just worried. 

Climbing back onto the beach, slamming the tail end of his rented board deep into the sand to stand it upright, he looked all around the secluded beachfront, hoping to spot his friend. Where had Blair gone off to?

* * *

The sun had set. His beer was gone. The pain in his heart remained. Reaching into his shirt pocket, Blair pulled out his cell phone and flicked it on. He didn't want to do this. But he didn't have anything else to give Jim, no other way to show the sentinel that he came first. _Tonight. Maybe tonight he'll talk to me. Tonight he'll forgive me, and we can talk things over, work everything out. He'll see I didn't purposely keep Lee Eolia's true identity from him, that it was just the bad result of good intentions on everyone's part._ He turned the phone off again and put it away.

Letting out a long sigh, Blair rubbed the blue tattoo on the inside of his left wrist. God, how he wished he'd never taken that vow. At the time, he'd thought it the ideal way to be closer to Dee, to learn more about her, more about Immortals, more about the Game. Instead, the Watchers oath had led him to keep secrets from Jim. Dee's secrets. Eolia's secrets. 

Closing his eyes, he ran both hands through his hair, wincing as his fingers caught in wind formed tangles. Wrapping his arms around his knees, he rocked back and forth on the sand, the tropical breeze suddenly raising goosebumps on his skin. Getting to his feet, he began to walk down the beach, hoping the activity would warm him, his emotions tumbling.

_Dee, angel, I love you so much. I don't want to do this. I don't want to hurt you like this, but I don't see any other way out, any other way to prove my loyalty to Jim. I'm sorry, angel, I'm so sorry._

Pulling out the cell phone again, he punched the speed dial and waited as it rang, trying to ignore the awful feeling in his stomach. 

"Hello?" 

The sleepy voice that answered was warm and familiar, and Blair felt the tears stinging his eyes again. Fuck. He was such a fucking coward. He swallowed past the lump in his throat.

"Lobo? Is that you? I thought we agreed you didn't have to call me every day."

The rush of emotion he felt at those simple words was overwhelming. _I can't do this. She loves me. I can't hurt her like this._ But if he lost Jim--

"Are you there?"

Finally he managed to speak. "Yeah, yeah I'm here, Dee. I'm sorry for calling so late. I just--just needed to hear your voice." He heard the mattress creak on her end.

"Blair? What is it, what's wrong?"

"Oh god. I--I--love you, angel. Please, believe me, I love you. But I can't--we can't..." He couldn't get the words out.

Her voice was soft and gentle in his ear. "What, baby? What's the problem?"

This was the hardest thing he'd ever had to say. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep feeling like I'm being pulled between you and Jim, like I have to make a choice over and over and over again. Like if I'm with one of you, I'm betraying the other."

She didn't say anything for several long seconds, then she replied, "I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way, Lobo. That was never my intention--"

"No, no. It's not you, never you. It's me. I'm the one who can't handle this. I'm the one who's screwing everything up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. This is a terrible, horrible way to do this but--I don't think we should see each other any more." In the silence that followed, Blair was struck by the absurdity of the situation. There he was, standing on a beautiful beach in the moonlight, the same beach he'd wanted to make love to her on, breaking up with the love of his life over a cell phone. 

He heard a little noise through the connection, the kind of noise one makes when their lover has just ripped their heart out. Then she said softly, "If that's the way you need it to be, then so be it. I just want you to know I love you, that I will always love you. Goodbye, Lobo." 

"No! Dee! Wait--I--" There was a dull click, and she was gone. 

Blair dropped to the sand, feeling the waves licking at his knees but not caring. He'd just hurt the one person who truly loved him for who he was, not for who he thought he should be. The tears finally spilled over, and he poured out his heartache to the sea and the sky.

* * *

Dee fell back against the pillows, the cordless phone slipping from her grasp to land on the floor. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have let this happen? You should have kept your vow, Dee, the one you made after you first met Blair, the one about staying out of his life, about not getting involved. She squeezed her eyes shut against the tears, remembering the knock on her door just moments after she'd made that decision. Blair had stood there, a slightly frightened, yet determined look on his face. "Teach me," he asked her, and the promise she'd made a second before was forgotten. 

She'd thought that was where she was supposed to be, that being a part of Blair's life was her destiny, yet she'd been the one to walk away the first time. To protect him, she'd thought, to keep his relationship with Jim from self-combusting. 

Things had been better when she'd come back, she'd believed. She had a companion, a guide, and the friction between herself and Jim had lessened considerably. She could comfortably call him a friend now, rather than an irritation. They had been getting along fine, she'd thought, until Eolia had dropped back into her life.

Goddess, you really screwed up there, Diandra. Rolling onto her back, she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. For not the first time she regretted her decision not to honor Eolia's request. She should have taken the witch's head when she'd asked, then none of this would have happened. Lia wouldn't have gotten involved with Jim, innocent people would still be alive, and Blair would be with her, right now, here in her arms. 

A silent sob shook her frame, and she buried her face in the pillow. Blair...if she'd known their good-byes at the airport would be the last time she'd see him, the last time she'd hold him, she would have wrapped him in her embrace and never let go. How ironic it had been him, then, asking for reassurance that she would be there when he got back, that she wouldn't leave him. Now, only a few days later, he was the one pushing her away.

She let herself cry, remembering the good times, then letting each memory go, like petals floating away on a stream. 

When she was done, Diandra got to her feet. She'd let herself grow complacent, put down roots, begun to care about the people around her. That's what got Immortals killed. It was time to move on. Where didn't matter, just so long as it was as far away from heartache as she could get.

* * *

The last vestige of sunset color had faded from the Pacific sky, leaving behind dark velvet sparkling with a multitude of dazzling diamonds. Jim walked along the shore, heading back towards the beach cottage, having failed at locating his guide. Blair's footsteps away from the lonely palm tree had led off in a northwesterly direction, and the sentinel had followed the path with a dogged determination. The evening winds had defeated him when Jim had lost the path on a shelf of hard, volcanic rock. They had whisked away any trace of Blair Sandburg. The only scents Jim had been able to pick up were the ones of hibiscus flowers, wild ginger and the pungent, almost choking smell of the few pineapple fields on the isle of Kauai. 

Taking the time to return the rented surfboard to the proprietors of Kauai Rentals, Jim realized that he was tired, and a little sore. He hadn't really surfed in years and his body wasn't about to let him forget it, which made him promise himself to get back into practice once he and Blair returned to Cascade. It would mean buying a cold water wetsuit, but the relaxation he could get by riding the waves--well, it might make his dentist happy. Or not. He forcibly unclenched his jaw as he walked up the shell-strewn path towards the cottage.

Trudging up the last few steps, he walked into the house, hoping that Blair was there. Before he opened the door, he knew that wasn't the case. Wherever the man had wandered off to, he had not yet returned to the place where he and Jim were staying. The phone was ringing but it stopped before he could cross the living area to answer it. Stripping out of the light shirt he had donned before going on the hunt for his guide, Jim stepped towards the bathroom, intent on washing off the evening's accumulation of sea salt and sand. 

The phone was ringing again when he finally stepped out of the shower and, this time, whoever was calling gave him enough time to reach the extension in the spare bedroom. "Hello?"

"Bloody damn time you answered the damn phone! Where the hell is Sandy and why do I have a pissed off Champion on my hands?!!"

Gingerly putting the phone close to his ear again, Jim responded with less heat than his caller had given him. "Connor? What the hell are you talking about?"

"What the fuck does Sandy think he's doing? Dee's talking crap, moving away, going somewhere remote where she doesn’t have to put up with touchy Sentinels, or emotional Companions! What the hell did he say to her?!?"

"What?! Connor, hang on a minute, I haven't seen Sandburg all evening--"

"What?!" 

"I lost track of him while I was surfing. I just got back in from trying to locate him."

"Bugger!" If Jim listened closely, and he did, he could hear Megan Connor breathing rather heavily and there was an odd hitch to that breathing. "Oh, Jim, what am I going to do? I can't lose her, not now, and it looks as though that's exactly what she's trying to do, toss me to the dingoes and leave me to rot."

"Connor… Megan, calm down." He sat on the bed and tried to calm his own fears. Blair was out there, somewhere on the island, and he hadn't a clue as to where or what the man's state of mind might be. "Okay, tell me what happened."

* * *

Megan looked up from the paperwork she was doing as the phone rang. A quick glance at the caller ID box showed it was Sandy. He'd called every night since he and Jim had been gone, and spent almost an hour each time telling Dee how much he missed her. Or that's what she had assumed from what she'd overheard on this end. It was kind of late to be calling tonight, though. She shrugged. Maybe Sandy and Jim had been out to dinner and just got back. She allowed herself a moment of envy. Pristine beaches, warm ocean waters--heaven compared to cold and wet Cascade. 

Signing her name at the bottom of the last report thirty minutes later, she stuffed the papers into a folder and stood up, stretching to relieve the ache in her back. She looked around the apartment, and was satisfied with what she saw. It had taken three days, but she was all moved in and unpacked, everything put away in closets and drawers. She didn't have much in the way of personal items, since the plan had never been to stay in Cascade this long, but a few photos of her Da and brothers graced some of the bookshelves. 

She'd just gotten herself a glass of water in the kitchen before heading to bed when Dee appeared from her bedroom. Megan's internal alarms went off at her partner's appearance. Dee's eyes were red and swollen, but she looked like she was on a mission. She watched as the Immortal went straight to the front closet and dragged out a large suitcase. Megan followed her as she returned to her room.

"Dee? What's the matter? What's going on?" She felt a ball of ice forming in the pit of her stomach as Dee began emptying dresser drawers into the suitcase.

"I can't do this anymore," Dee said, more to herself than to Megan. "This was a mistake, a big mistake. I should have known better, known it wouldn't last."

Megan entered and stood in the path between the suitcase and the dresser. "What's a mistake, Dee?"

She stopped in the middle of the room and ran her fingers through her sleep-mussed hair, then waved her hand to encompass the room. "This. This was a mistake, all of it. I was a fool to think I could stay here, be happy here. I should have gone back to the Outback three years ago." Stepping around Megan she picked up an armful of t-shirts and deposited them in her bag.

Grabbing her by the arm when she went past again, Megan pulled her around to face her. "Damn it, Dee, you're scaring me! What in the hell is going on?"

Dee closed her eyes slowly. "You'd think after so many years I would have toughened up, developed a heart of stone." Her eyes opened, and Megan found herself drawn into their haunted blue depths. "Instead my heart's so very, very fragile, a heart of glass. And it's shattered into a million pieces." She slid out of her companion's grasp. "I can't stay here any longer."

Megan felt like Dee had run her through with her sword. "So you're leaving, just like that? Do you even know where in the hell you're going? And what about me? Are you expecting me to just pick up and leave my life here to follow you?"

Sighing, Dee started on the closet, stripping clothes from their hangers. "Yes, just like that. No, I don't know where I'm going, only that it's going to be as far away from here as I can get. And no, I don't expect you to come with me. You have a life here, a job you love, friends who care about you. I don't have that here any more."

"God damn it, Dee! I care about you! I want you to stay."

The older woman shook her head. "Living among mortals is too hard, Pajara. It hurts too much."

"Dee--"

"My mind's made up, Megan. Nothing you say is going to stop me from leaving." 

The Aussie clenched her fists tightly, feeling her nails dig into her palm. All right, if Dee wasn't going to tell her what was going on, she knew someone who would. Heading for the living room, she picked up the phone.

* * *

Sitting on the veranda, he waited with all the patience of a cat on the hunt of elusive prey. From what Megan had told him of the information she'd dragged out of Diandra in between attempts to contact Jim, Blair had called his lover, and broken off their relationship. He seemed to have some kind of notion he had to choose between the Champion and the Sentinel. Jim growled at the idea that **he** was the reason Blair had severed all ties to Dee. It was wrong, so wrong. And it was way past the time that he proved that to his Guide. 

Yes, it was true that he had had a difficult time accepting the idea that Diandra Pallas was a sentinel and that his guide was involved with her. But he was over that, right? Of course, he was. Besides, if Diandra up and left Cascade, left the Puget Sound area, then Megan Connor would feel compelled to follow her and Cascade could not afford to lose a valuable member of its police force. 

The moon had finally risen, glowing golden in the black velvet vault of the heavens, painting the sands and surrounding lush landscape with a soft sheen of light. It was more than enough light for his sharp eyes to pick up the form of his friend, his Guide, walking up the beach towards the cottage. He waited until Blair had stepped up onto the lanai before announcing his presence. "Bout time you got back, Sandburg."

He watched as the man jumped slightly before recovering his composure. "Hey, sorry about that, didn't mean for you to wait up." Blair raked a hand through wind-tossed hair as he softly treaded the wooden lanai to where Jim sat. "How was the surf?"

"Good. I stayed out there a little longer than I had planned, but it was good." Nonchalantly picking up the glass of tea on the table by his side, Jim mentally bit his tongue to keep from mentioning what was really on his mind. "Missed you on the beach, did you have a nice walk?"

"Yeah." Blair sank into the chaise lounge near the railing as he answered. "Had a lot of thinking to do, trying to organize everything up here." He tapped his forehead.

"Organization is good." Sipping the cold, barely sweetened tea, Jim thought about switching topics. "I don't suppose that this sudden interest in 'organizing' things will extend outside your brain? To your room, perhaps?"

The hollow laughter that escaped Blair fell like shattered glass. "Yeah, right." The yawn and stretch routine was barely passable and the fast glance towards the watch on the wrist poorly done. "Oh, man, I didn't realize it was so late. I'm bushed. Can I get you anything before I hit the sack, Jim?"

 _Enough of this pussy-footing around…_ "Megan called." Jim watched as the color faded from Blair's face and, once again, wondered what the younger man had been thinking when he'd called Diandra.

"Oh? What'd she have to say?"

"I think you know, Chief."

"I'm totally lost here."

"So is Megan. She was damn near in tears when she called." Jim stood up, leaned on the railing that encompassed the cottage's lanai and gazed out at the moonlit waters of the bay. "Why'd you do it, Chief?" He kept his voice low, soft, but he could sense by the way Blair's body had tensed up he was rattled. "Why did you break off your relationship with Dee?"

He turned to face Blair, only to see the younger man making a break for the door into the cottage. Moving fast, he barely managed to stop him from gaining entry. He couldn't help but notice the trail marks on Blair's cheeks, left behind by tears shed hours ago. Holding the squirming student by his biceps, Jim barged ahead with the questions which had burned themselves into his mind since he'd hung up with Megan over two hours ago. "Why, Chief? You love Dee. I've seen it in your eyes every time you look at her, so why'd you do it? Why did you break her heart?" 

"Let me go!" Jim managed to duck the wild swing from his guide, using the momentum against him, until he was actually bear-hugging him from behind, Blair's arms trapped at his sides by Jim's slightly stronger ones.

"Not until you tell me why, Chief."

"I did it for you, damn it!"

Jim let go of Blair and stepped back, allowing his friend to finally gain access into the cottage. _"I did it for you--"_ The words raced around in Jim's mind, chattering like an angry squirrel, until he actually had to squeeze them away by pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes. It couldn't be true, could it? Blair giving up the one woman he loved just for him? Why? Resentment built up in his chest, threatening to burst through the walls of his heart and Jim realized he was getting pissed. At himself, at Diandra Pallas, but most of all, at a certain guide. How dare Sandburg lay his unhappiness, Megan's despondency and Dee's heartache at **his** feet. Taking a deep breath, Jim counted to thirty before he felt he had his anger under some semblance of control and entered the cottage.

Blair wasn't in the living area or in the kitchen, but it was ridiculously easy to track his Guide to the bedroom he had bolted to. Knocking on the closed door, Jim leaned against the wall and awaited a response. 

"Go away, Jim. Just go away."

"'Fraid not, Sandburg. I'm staying right where I am, at least until we have to board the airplane to return to Cascade." Listening to the movement behind the closed door, Jim called out a warning. "And if you're thinking of going out the window, forget it. We need to talk and we need to talk right the hell now." 

Jim lost track of time as he tried to keep tabs on his guide, his friend, through the closed door between them. Just when he was starting to slide down the wall, to seat himself in the hallway, the door opened. Pushing off the wall, he realized just how tired his friend was and almost relented. He was about to voice his opinion that the talk could wait until morning when Blair interrupted him.

"You're right, Jim. We need to talk, but can it wait until I take a shower? Maybe even grab a bite to eat?"

A rueful smile twitched at his lips and he nodded. "Sure. Go shower. I haven't eaten yet either, so while you're cleaning up, I'll rustle up something for us both."

* * *

Blair walked back into his bedroom, stripping out of his clothes. Damn it! He didn't want to talk about this now. He'd hoped he'd have some time to deal with what he'd done before discussing it with Jim. Entering the bathroom, he turned on the shower and climbed in. 

He stuck his head under the stream of hot water, feeling it sluice down his back, working its magic on the knots of tension along his spine. What in the hell was he going to tell Jim? How could he explain something he didn't really understand himself? He only knew that earlier tonight severing all ties to Dee had seemed like the solution to his problem, the way to show Jim that he was committed to the Sentinel/Guide thing, that he was **his** not hers. But now...now he only felt like he'd dug himself a deeper hole. 

And god, what had he done to Dee? She was upset, obviously, despite her bruskness on the phone, upset enough that Megan was calling Jim to find out what was going on. Closing his eyes, Blair turned his vision inward, seeking the spiritual bond that connected him to Diandra. It was still there, a blue-white cord of energy. He wondered what would sever it, if what he'd done had no effect on it, or if it could be destroyed at all. He hadn't asked for it to be created, not really. He'd only wanted the fear and hopelessness he'd felt when Jim had been kidnapped by Evan Kendall to go away. It had, in the same way that a burden shared is not as heavy as one borne alone. 

It had been a support to him as well, even when he and Diandra had been apart. There was something comforting in the knowledge there was someone always **there** , who believed in you, loved you, unconditionally. "I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, "so sorry." He let his love for her fill his heart, then let it go, giving it a push toward where the band of energy disappeared into darkness. 

Blair opened his eyes to cold water pelting his face, and Jim knocking on the door, saying something about was he going to be in there all night. 

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be right out," he called, turning off the tap and toweling off between violent shivers. Slipping into his bathrobe and tying the belt tightly, Blair headed for the kitchen and the talk he really didn't want to have.

* * *

Jim laid back on the soft mattress, his hands locked behind his head. The talk with Sandburg had gone absolutely nowhere. They'd eaten. Talked a little about the tentative plans they'd made to visit Pearl the following day and skirted around the real issue at hand. Not that Jim hadn't tried to get Blair to open up, he had, but for once the normally talkative man had nothing to say. 

After knocking on the bathroom door, to check on Blair's progress, Jim had returned to the small kitchen to put the final touch on the sandwiches he'd thrown together. Placing the plates, along with tall glasses of iced tea, on the table he looked up to see a still damp Sandburg shuffling into the kitchen area in a white, resort supplied bathrobe. 

"Oh, good. You didn't wrinkle away." He tried to lighten the mood with humor, but from the look in his friend's eyes, it fell flat. "Come on, eat up. I realize it's not much, but I really didn't have much to chose from." 

"Thanks."

They sat in silence, munching down the peanut butter and banana sandwiches, Blair only getting up to grab a glass of milk. Once the despondent student had returned to the table, Jim tried to start a conversation with him. "So, you still interested in going to the Pearl Harbor Memorial in," he glanced at his watch, "Guess I should say today, since it's after midnight already."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Or maybe we could go to that museum you were talking about? The one that specializes in native Hawaiian culture and artifacts?"

"Whatever." 

"Or we could hike up to the top of Mount Kilauea and I could toss you in as an offering to Pele."

"Sounds good to me."

Jim growled, "Damn it, Sandburg! Have you heard a single thing I said?"

Blue eyes finally flashed upward from the empty plate to connect with his gaze. "Yeah, but I should warn you, Pele's likely to spit me out and seek revenge against you for such a piss-poor offering."

"Why?"

"Because She was rather particular about the purity of the sacrifice. And Pele had this little problem with people, men mostly, who broke other's hearts."

Finally, Blair had given him an opening. "So, why'd you do it?"

The silence lasted far longer than Jim was comfortable with and he forced himself not to fidget while the man across the table gathered his thoughts. His patience lasted a few more minutes, more than he'd wanted to wait, then just as he was getting ready to get up from his chair Blair spoke up.

"I did it for all the wrong reasons. I felt like I'd failed you, like I'd screwed up. And you weren't talking to me. Well, nothing much more than monosyllabic grunts. So I felt like I had to make the first move, and all I could think of to do was to smash all the pieces and start over. To try and prove to you that you were the only thing that mattered, that everything else was expendable, even the woman I love." Blair got to his feet unsteadily. "I think I need to be alone now."

"Blair--"

"Jim, I mean it. I really am tired and need to be alone with myself for a while."

He watched as his friend disappeared down the hall to his room, then, needing to do something, he gathered up the dishes and carried them to the sink. _He's right, he broke up with Dee for the wrong reasons. He didn't fail me, I just didn't want to talk about the whole incident with Lee. Still don't, but I have to face my feelings about her sometime._ Filling the sink with soapy water, Jim absent-mindedly started to wash up the few dishes, his thoughts whirling in his head as he tried to put them in order. The last glass to be washed shattered in his too tight grip, slicing his left index finger and the symbolism wasn't lost on him. Shards of glass, like the two broken hearts of Blair and Diandra, fell into the sink, his own blood mingling with the crystalline fragments, staining them. In doing what he thought was right, his best friend had managed to nearly destroy four people: himself, Dee, Megan and Jim. Shaking off the weird mood, which had descended on him like a cloying fog, the Sentinel managed to pick up the pieces of the broken tumbler, then clean up his small wound. _Now if only it were as easy to fix this mess that has happened between a Guide and a Champion. I hope Connor can pull off her end of the plan…_

The soft trilling of a cell phone caught his attention, pulling him back into the here and now, and Jim walked outside where he'd left his cell. Picking it up, he noticed the number on the display and answered the call. "Connor? Tell me you have good news."


	2. Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blair and Dee run afoul of the law, while Jim and Megan do lunch.

After getting less than four hours of uninterrupted sleep, Jim had hauled a still exhausted Sandburg out of bed and managed to meet the inter-island shuttle that had flown the two of them to Oahu. Using public transit wasn't Jim's idea of a good time, but the cost of rental cars on the big island were outrageous, once you figured in the extra cost of liability insurance. So the sentinel merely turned down the dials on his senses and put up with the crowded bus system. "Sandburg, wake up." Jim jostled the younger man's shoulder. "Next stop is ours."

He watched as Blair took in the surrounding scenery and got his bearings. "This doesn't look like the area around Pearl."

"It's not. We're going to the Bishop Museum first then, if there's enough time, we'll pay our respects to the men who died at Pearl Harbor." He just hoped that Megan had managed to convince a certain stubborn Amazon to visit the same place at the same time. The bus came to a slow, grinding halt, the doors opened to discharge passengers, and Jim got up to leave, praying the lure of a museum would be too attractive to his guide. 

"But I thought you didn't want to come here," Blair quietly said as he stood up to follow Jim off the bus.

"Well, I didn't. But the way you talked about the Bishop Museum on the flight over here got me all curious, and I decided that I could use a little culture." He made a point of looking over a local tourist map, holding it up in such a way that Blair could see the contents. "Look here, Chief. We're only about six city blocks from Pearl and I figure once we're done in here, we can hoof it over there."

Blair nodded then led the way into the large and beautifully designed building. Jim followed him at a discrete distance, sending his senses out as far as he dare stretch them, looking for signs that a particular team of Champion and Companion might be nearby. Nothing. Glancing at his watch, he realized he and Blair were a bit early, so he set off after the younger man in hopes of stalling him inside the museum long enough to 'accidentally' run into Connor and Pallas.

He caught up to his friend just inside the entranceway where Blair was studying the large statue of King Kamehameha. The bronze sculpture was fully dressed in traditional war robes and the soft music coming from the speaker system pulsated through Jim's ears, sending a responding pulse into his heart. Blair's voice grabbed his attention.

"…Kamehameha was the last warrior king of Hawaii. The music you hear is a traditional war chant and, while not authentic to the time period, it's as close as the researchers could get it. Man, feel that beat? That's so primal and bound to stir up feelings of aggression in warriors already pumped up for action." 

Jim nodded his head. "Yeah, no kidding, Darwin. Mind if we leave this immediate area?"

"Oh! Sure, no problem." Blair lowered his voice and placed a warm hand on Jim's lower back as he spoke only for sensitive ears. "Dial back to about level two; there's no telling what sort of dioramas we're going to run into in here and I do not want to deal with a primal sentinel, okay?"

Doing as his guide suggested, Jim felt the tension melting away from his muscles as they walked together into another room devoted to the more esoteric part of Hawaiian culture -- the work of modern artisans. Again, he mentally went over the plans he and Connor had made over the phone. Jim and Megan had both exchanged concern that once Dee figured out she'd been set-up sparks would fly between Champion and Sentinel. He just hoped he and Megan could get the hell out of the museum before the woman figured it out. 

A flicker at the edge of Jim's vision caught his attention. Over by one of the modern dug-out outrigger kayak thingies was the wild mare he knew as Diandra's spirit guide. _Time for me to cut out of here…_

"Hey, Chief, I'll be back in a few minutes," Jim called out to his friend who was, again, deeply involved in a discussion with one of the docents over what appeared to Jim's untrained eye to be a rather ugly two foot wooden statue of Pele. Waiting until he was sure Blair had heard him, Jim trotted off in the general direction of the nearest bathroom, and the front doors. He met up with Megan in the terraced garden outside the Bishop Museum. 

The Australian looked apprehensive when she turned towards him. "Connor, what's wrong?"

"I'm not sure we're doing the right thing, Jim. Dee wasn't exactly thrilled at the idea of an eighteen hour layover here and I'm afraid she might just try to get an earlier flight to Sydney."

"Not good. What was the excuse you gave her in there for your departure?" He gestured back towards the building behind them.

"Loo call. What did you tell Sandy?"

"Same thing. Let's get out of here before one, or both of them, figure out we set them up."

"Good idea. Where to?" She fell into step beside Jim as he led the way towards the street.

"Ever been to the Pearl Harbor Memorial?"

* * *

His questions answered, Blair turned his attention back to the carving of Pele as the docent walked off. He stared at the icon, glad of the respite from Jim, however brief. Funny thing, that. He'd broken up with Dee to get closer to Jim. Now he only felt uncomfortable around the sentinel.

 _It was a stupid idea, Sandburg. What you broke can't be fixed by breaking something else._ He pressed one hand against the glass of the case, feeling a sudden kinship with those souls sacrificed to Pele's fiery embrace. At least they'd died for _something_ they believed in. Blair didn't know what he believed any more.

Shaking his head, he turned away. She stood there, a tall, raven-haired statue clad in jeans and a T-shirt, eyes blazing blue fire, face pale as marble. "Dee..." Her name was a whispered prayer.

She moved then, or at least her eyes did, darting round the room, looking everywhere but at him. Her hands clenched into fists, and he could see the minute tremors rocking her. "This is a cruel, cruel trick, Megan," she said, her voice low and dangerous. 

Blair looked around, but saw no sign of Megan, or Jim for that matter. "We've been set up," he murmured. 

Diandra shook her head, then began to walk away from him. "I'm not sticking around for whatever they had in mind."

"Dee, wait!" When she showed no sign of stopping, Blair trotted after her. He caught up to her just as she pushed through the doors to the outside. "Please, Dee, let me explain--"

She whirled on him, her face showing a mixture of pain and anger. "No. I heard you very clearly last night. I think you said everything that needed to be said on the phone. And I know I can't go through it again in person." She headed for the parking lot.

Blair stood there for a moment, staring after her, feeling the rush of emotional pain that flowed through their connection. He'd been the cause of that; he'd been the one who'd hurt her so deeply she felt her only option was to run and hide. He couldn't leave things this way between them. 

He found her standing next to a white Taurus in the parking lot. She was staring at it, her expression frustrated. "Dee, please, I need to talk to you--"

"Megan has the fucking keys," she muttered, then took a step back. Without warning, she kicked out from a standing position, putting her booted foot through the rear driver's side window. Reaching in, she unlocked the driver's door and opened it. 

Blair pushed it shut. "Damn it, Diandra, would you listen to me!" She put her back against the side of the car, crossing her arms across her chest, her face blank. He inhaled deeply, wondering what in the hell he could say, now that he had her attention. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I hurt you. I just--I keep fucking up. I fucked up with Jim, then I fuck things up with you. If I could change everything I've done over the past two weeks, I would. But I can't, and I'm sorry I can't."

She blinked then, and he could see the tears in her eyes. "Fine. You've apologized. Now I'm going to the airport and getting on the first plane away from here." Opening the car door, she crawled under the dash and yanked out some wires.

"Dee, please. I realize now I can't fix things with Jim by breaking up with you. It was a stupid idea, and a cruel thing to do to you. I wasn't thinking straight; hell, I'm not thinking straight now. All I know is I hurt like hell and I know you have to be hurting, too." He squatted next to her legs, which were hanging out the door. "Please, Dee. I love you, angel. Give me another chance--"

The engine sparked to life, and she climbed out from under the dash to sit on the edge of the seat. Her eyes met his, and her fingertips lightly brushed his cheek. "Oh, Lobo, I want to, I really do. I just can't go through this again." 

He caught her hand in his, brushing his lips over her palm. "I promise, Dee--"

"Very sweet. Now stand up slowly, and put your hands on the roof of the car." 

Blair did as he was told, then looked over his shoulder to find two uniformed cops behind him, guns drawn. "Officer, I, we can explain--"

"Yeah, I'm sure you can. You two lovebirds were going to kiss and make up, then go for a little joyride."

"Dee! Tell them it's your car."

Getting to her feet, Diandra shrugged and put her hands on top of the Taurus. "Technically, it's not. Megan rented it, not me."

"Oh, great! And she and Jim are off god knows where!" Blair didn't resist as one of the cops cuffed him. "This is great, just great."

Dee held out her wrists for handcuffs as well, then leaned toward him. "You think this is fun, wait'll they find the swords in the trunk."

Blair just shook his head. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

The visit to Pearl Harbor was mostly a bust, save for the shocking picture of a woman, a member of the Coast Watchers, who had to be Diandra Pallas. Even in plain, grainy black and white the Immortal's presence, her essence, was unmistakable. The caption below the photo in the "They Also Served" memorial stated that the unnamed woman had been part of a covert coastal operations group who worked for the Allies behind enemy lines on the island of Topanga. 

Jim knew that the photographic evidence of Dee's longevity shook him, but Megan seemed even more disturbed. Leaving the grounds of the Memorial, he spotted a familiar sight and questioned his companion, "Feel like wetting your whistle, Connor?" At her confused look, he pointed across the street towards a local bar and raised an eyebrow at her.

"Yeah, I could really use it." Without warning, she darted across the street, leaving Jim to catch up to her. He did just as she walked up to the door. 

"That bad, eh?" he teased as he pulled the door open for her.

"Yeah." She walked into the dimly lit establishment, crossed over to the bar and ordered two Fosters from the barkeep, passing one over to Jim when he moved up beside her.

Taking a swig of the ice-cold beverage, and feeling it hit his empty stomach, reminded Jim that he'd not eaten anything since early that morning. Spying a small menu on the counter below the bar, he reached over and snagged it. The female barkeep smiled at him as she continued polishing the glasses that a dishwasher had just delivered to her. Scanning the hand-printed menu, Jim spotted a few things that maybe Megan wouldn't mind helping him with. Waving the barkeep over, he pointed out the two items to her and she nodded before trotting over to the far end of the bar to call out the order.

"Two Sonny Delights and a Couple's Platter!"

"Wot?!" Megan damn near spit her Fosters over the counter as the barkeep yelled out the orders. Her gaze turned to flint as she looked at him. "Jimbo, what the hell did you just order?"

Fighting to control his laughter, he handed the menu over to the Inspector and pointed the items out. "See? Perfectly harmless, Connor. Just relax, will ya? Or don't you trust me?"

"A pu-pu platter and two 'famous dish to honor our white brother, Sonny Keys'?" She let out a small chuckle as she placed the menu back on the bar. "Okay, I trust you. And I could really use the food." Placing the now empty bottle of beer on the bar, she signaled for another one, as her stomach rumbled loud enough that Jim didn't need sentinel senses to hear it.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he brought the bottle up to his face to hide the smirk he felt creeping up there.

And, from the look on the barkeep's face, she had heard the rumble as well. "Hey, folks. Your food will be out in a few minutes, and I'm expecting to get quite a crowd in here when the next tour bus pulls up, so why don't you find yourselves a good table?" She pointed with her chin towards a back booth. "That's the best place in the house, the tourists never sit back there and it's real private." 

Jim choked back his mouthful of Fosters as Megan replied to the woman, "Thanks. Come on, Jimbo, let's go cuddle."

He followed her to the table the bartender had recommended, wondering what game the redhead was playing. Sliding into the bench next to Connor, he allowed himself to smile. "Cuddle, Connor? I thought you Aussies were the world champions of beer drinking. Should I worry that you're the exception to the rule that no one can drink an Aussie under the table?" Her only response was to pinch him, hard, on the side. Jim jumped. "Damn! Watch where you put those hands of yours, Megan!"

"Sure thing, sweetie." Megan grinned wickedly as she looked past him. Jim glanced over his shoulder to see a waitress standing by their table patiently with the over sized pu-pu platter in her hands.

* * *

The "Sonny Delights" were delivered and proved to be one of the best bacon cheeseburgers Jim could ever recall ingesting. It was nearly a full pound of ground beef, huge beefsteak tomatoes, onions, lettuce, and pickles with the added touch of steak sauce instead of the ketchup, mayonnaise or mustard that most places used. Connor had surprised him by finishing her "Sonny Delight" and half of his fries before she called off her feeding frenzy. Just before the expected crowd hit the bar, the bartender came over with a huge pitcher of what looked like ice tea, but proved to be much stronger, and Jim pretty much found himself alone with Megan. Or at least as alone as two people could be in a crowded bar. 

"Jim, you ain't half bad company when you're relaxed."

 _Yeah, 'relaxed' is a good way to describe my mood right now._ "You ain't half bad either, Megs." 

" 'Megs'? Only my aunt Matty ever called me Megs." 

The wistful tone in the woman's voice tripped a warning bell in his head, but he chose to ignore it while trying to figure out why, and when, he'd gone from calling her "Connor" or "Megan" to using what could only be called a 'pet-name.' "Sorry."

Her hand flashed out across the surface of the table to clasp his in its warm grasp. "I'm not. Matty would've liked you, Jimbo. You can call me Megs if you want, I won't tell anyone."

"Okay, but I have a favor to ask you in return." He tightened his grip on her hand to gain her full attention and waited until her expression changed from the soft, charming half smile to one that was more like the Connor he knew. "No more 'Jimbo' when we're not on duty." Jim let loose with a leering grin as Megan's jaw almost hit the table, only to snap shut and open again with a quiet chuckle. 

"Deal." Megan pumped his hand, once, before releasing it to grab up the glass which held her drink. "But only when we're not on duty. I have a reputation to protect, got it?" She held the glass up in the air invitingly and Jim understood what she wanted. 

Raising his own half empty glass he gently tapped it against hers, sealing the deal. "Done. Megs." He met her eyes across the tops of their drinks and the longing for another beautiful red haired lady welled up unexpectedly inside of his heart.

* * *

She wasn't sure what had just come over her companion, but one thing was certain, Jim was suddenly hurting inside again. "Jim?" Megan placed her drink on the table and reached out to remove his from his hand before his grip on the fragile glass could tighten further and shatter the cup. "Jim, what is it? What's wrong?" 

It unnerved her, watching cool, controlled Ellison breaking down in public, silent tears streaking down his face. It occurred to Megan what had to be happening. Pulling her friend and coworker close, she engulfed him in her arms as the grief he'd been bottling up inside for so long suddenly broke through his inner defenses. "Ah, Jim. It's okay. Everything will be just fine. Let it out, let it all out before it eats you alive." She rocked him in her arms, offering comfort to him just as she would any member of her extended family back home in Sydney. 

How long they stayed like that, she wasn't sure. All Megan was aware of was the feeling that holding Jim, comforting him, was absolutely right and what was meant to be. He was, after all, a part of her unofficial family, a family unit that included Diandra, Blair and, yes, James Ellison.

She sat there, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, gently rocking Jim as his tears slowly soaked into her blouse, searing her shoulder with their heat. Megan caught a few, sympathetic glances from others seated near their table, but opted to ignore them. _If Jim knew that his breakdown was garnering so much public attention, he'd probably die of embarrassment._ He shifted in her arms, his nose pressing closer to her neck as his breathing slowly regained a natural rhythm. Then he shifted again. This time his mouth was pressed against her throat. His lips traced a fiery trail on her flesh, starting at the side of her throat, sliding up her neck to her chin until those lips found hers, and Megan felt herself responding to Jim's teasing, tantalizing touch.

* * *

Days after he'd help bury Lee, the pent-up grief broke unexpectedly through the barrier walls he'd built up. Suddenly, Jim found himself trying not to cry over the loss of a woman who could have been 'the one.' Even as he felt Megan Conner holding him, comforting him through this part of the grieving process, he couldn't help but think of Lee and everything that could have been. It felt so good to let the grief out; to let go of it supported by someone he knew wouldn't look down upon him for crying over the Immortal woman's death. 

Thinking of Eolia, while holding on to Megan like a life-preserver, drenching the Australian's shoulder with his silent tears, had lowered his defenses and Jim found himself actually tasting the air around her. His mind automatically catalogued the scents clinging to her skin. Rose, musk, sea salt, wild ginger and the sweet scent of the lais that she must have been presented with when she and Diandra had landed at the airport. There was something else, more elusive, yet achingly familiar. Needing more information, he shifted in her arms, blind instinct taking over as the Sentinel part of him tracked down that evasive scent. 

Lavender! So close to the scent that Eolia had worn on a daily basis! Jim flashed back to the last time he'd held Lee in just this manner, his lips and mouth following the same path they'd taken before. 

Shoulder to neck, touching the pulse throbbing wildly there; neck to throat, to delight in the feel of the woman's rapid breathing; throat to chin then up to the mouth. Lips so soft that they seemed to invite his advances, tasting faintly of the 'tea' they'd been drinking, opened up under his gentle persuasion and he plundered the sweetness within with a passion that was steadily building to a fevered pitch--

*TRILL!*

The sound of a cell phone going off pulled Jim back to the present and he was surprised, and slightly shocked, to see a mussed up Megan Conner in his arms. The phone rang again, breaking into his hearing with all the subtlety of a wrecking ball. Releasing Megan from his clasp, he scrambled to find his cell phone, ready to rip someone a new one, only to discover that it wasn't his cell phone, but Megan's that had interrupted. _'What the hell was I thinking? Or DOING for that matter?'_

He pulled away slightly, trying to give Conner some room to talk in private. Her hand snaked out and captured his, pulling him back to his seat. Which was probably a good thing, since he wasn't sure he could stand up without gaining some unwanted attention at the moment.

* * *

Megan clamped her fingers around Ellison's wrist, her heart pounding, her lips still tingling from his passionate assault on them. Her other hand fumbled in her bag for the cell and she flipped it open, her eyes locked on him, every nerve in her body on fire. "G'day!" she barked into the instrument, lapsing back into her native slang in her confusion.

"Megan? Is that you?"

Sandy! God, she'd forgotten all about Sandy and Dee! "Yeah, it's me."

"Is Jim there? I tried his phone and can't get through. I, uh, really need to talk to him."

Jim was furiously shaking his head. "Uh, no, sorry, Sandy, he's not with me at the moment."

Blair's sigh was clearly audible. "Okay, well, maybe you can help." There was a long pause, then the anthropologist said, "Can you come bail Dee and me out of jail?"

"What! Jail! What are you doing in jail?" Now Jim was interested in the phone. She smacked his hand. 

"There was this little misunderstanding about the car. Dee wanted to go to the airport, but you had the keys, and well, how often is there a patrol car cruising by when you're hot wiring a car?" He laughed feebly at his joke.

"Where are you?" Grabbing a pen from her purse, she wrote the address down on a napkin. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Thanks, Megan." 

She closed the phone and looked at Jim. He had his elbows on the table, his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking violently. "Jim? You okay?"

He lifted his head, then burst out laughing. "Oh, God! I can just picture it! Can't you just see the two of them trying to steal a car?"

In spite of herself, Megan giggled. The chuckles turned into raucous laughter. Finally she doubled over, leaning her face against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around her aching stomach and tried to breathe. She felt him stiffen, and instantly sobered. Still gasping slightly, she straightened up and signaled to the waitress that they wanted the check. 

"Connor, about what happened. I'm really--"

She clapped a hand over his mouth. "Don't say it. Don't you dare say it. You were upset, I was comforting you, and you channeled Lee. You have nothing to apologize for." The waitress set the bill down and Megan removed her hand. 

Once the woman had gone, Jim said, "Thanks for--understanding." Digging in his wallet, he dropped some bills on the table and got to his feet.

"No problem," she answered, sliding out of the booth. A spot of color appeared on both his cheeks, and he ducked his head as he led the way out of the bar. Megan followed slowly, lost in thought. She could still feel the pressure of his lips against hers, and even now the memory touched something sensuously primal inside her. What in the hell was up with that? Jim was _so_ not her type.


End file.
